


Tranquil

by doctor__idiot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Post-Series, Professor Sam, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: If anyone had told Dean Winchester he would one day quit hunting and settle down in a tiny boring college town to live out the rest of his life there, he would have laughed in their face and then probably sprayed them with holy water, muttering ‘Christo’ under his breath.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](https://wincest-gives-you-wings.tumblr.com/post/157197410264/wincestious-doodle-of-dean-chilling-with).
> 
> I have so many headcanons about this, to be honest. Professor!Sam is everything to me. In this story, I imagine him to be teaching history and Latin maybe?
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Unbeta'd.

If anyone had told Dean Winchester he would one day quit hunting and settle down in a tiny boring college town to live out the rest of his life there, he would have laughed in their face and then probably sprayed them with holy water, muttering ‘Christo’ under his breath.

Joke’s on him, though, because here he was, in tranquil little Vermillion on the outskirts of South Dakota, trying to rid the Impala of the snow that had come down over night in a futile attempt to make it out to Sioux Falls to check on the salvage yard. 

When Sam had landed a teaching position at the University of South Dakota, it had seemed like an obvious choice to rebuild it, so that’s what Dean had done. It had come only naturally that, in addition, he had opened up a car repair shop. Enrolling in a few business classes at USD had helped with the bureaucracy part of it but he never actually finished a degree despite Sam’s urging. He didn’t see the point. All he wanted to do was work on cars.

So that’s what he had done. Used to drive up there every morning and back in the afternoon, sometimes later when he had lost track of time. He had never minded the commute, two hours on the road each day with his baby. It had let him keep something of his old life, had made sure he stayed sane. Until more and more years had passed and the hunting life had caught up with him.

All the injuries he had put his body through, never letting them heal properly, had given him an early case of arthritis, so he had reluctantly hired some help and resigned himself to keep track of everything from afar. He still made the trip a few times a week, to see for himself that Mel and Jeffrey hadn’t burnt down the joint. He felt welcome there, even if both of his employees were essentially half his age, and he sat and listened to Mel chewing his ear off about mundane stuff while he handled the paperwork that had piled up.

The winters usually were mild enough not to give his joints too much trouble but he was aching today, so much so that he gave up on his car and trudged back inside to make some coffee and defrost his fingers and toes.

Next time he checked the clock hanging high above the kitchen counter it was past noon and he made a spur-of-the-moment decision. Poured the remainder of the hot coffee into a thermos and screwed it shut. It had warmed up a little outside, sun coming out, and he finally managed to rid the car of most of the ice and snow.

It was a much shorter trip to the university than to Sioux Falls, barely ten minutes, and the ancient vents in the Impala didn’t even have time to really heat up before he pulled into the parking lot near the campus.

He navigated the hallways, zigzagging around clusters of students carrying backpacks, laptops, and stacks of books, and when he reached the lecture hall of Sam’s Medieval History class it was only quarter to one. So he waited outside, leaning back against the wall next to the door, until a gaggle of students spilled out of the door, nearly bumping into him.

He had been there often enough for some of them to recognize him and while some were more polite, nodding and smiling at him in greeting, a couple of them outright grinned at him, saying “Hello, Mr. Winchester,” with an obviously suggestive eye-twinkle. It made for some embarrassing moments but Dean thought it was mostly funny and he grinned right back. Sam’s professionalism definitely hadn’t rubbed off on him.

The last few students filtered out and he promptly heard Sam’s voice from inside the room, “You’re lurking.”

“I’m not lurking, I was waiting,” Dean said as he approached Sam’s desk.

He’s leaned back against it, long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him, shuffling papers and his laptop into his messenger bag. His hair was shorter than it used to be and gray at the temples but Dean didn’t mind either of those things. Sam needed glasses now, too, and Dean especially didn’t mind that.

It completed the whole hot professor look Sam had going on and he had voiced that appreciation multiple times, making Sam roll his eyes and blush imperceptibly every time.

Dean hoisted himself up onto the desk next to his brother. “I brought you coffee.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Sam meant it, too, eyes and smile grateful as he took the thermos from Dean.

Dean took in the circles under Sam’s eyes, the crease in the middle of his forehead. “Should’a brought you some Aspirin, too, huh? You look like you could use some.”

“I’m fine.” Sam shook his head, his words belied by the immediate wince of pain that followed. “It’s just a migraine.”

“I know, that’s why you should take some Aspirin.” Before Sam could open his mouth and say ‘I’m fine’ again, Dean added, “I’m taking you home.”

Sam fastened the clasp on his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He was moving slowly, gingerly as if he was sore but Dean knew better. He took hold of Sam’s wrist, ignoring the pain in his stiff fingers as he folded them around it, thumb over Sam’s pulse point.

“You’ve got your squinty ‘my head is about to explode and I’m going to throw up all over the floor’ face on.”

Sam looked down at Dean’s hand. “It’s not that bad. I’ve still got office hours.” 

“They’re canceled today.”

Sam sighed, “Dean,” as he turned his hand in Dean’s grip to fit his own fingers against the inside of Dean’s wrist.

Dean pulled away then, gently, to step in between Sam’s outstretched legs, bringing his fingers up to Sam’s temples and massaging the pressure points to relief some of the pain. Sam exhaled shakily, turning his face into the touch.

There wouldn’t be another class in this room for another half hour but Dean was aware of the door standing ajar, so he refrained from kissing Sam like he wanted to because he knew he would lose himself in it too much for such a public place.

Instead, he brought his mouth next to Sam’s ear, keeping his voice low and soft, “Come home with me.”

Sam’s chuckle was barely more than a vibration against Dean’s chest. “Well, how does one refuse a request like that?’

“One doesn’t,” Dean said, smiling at Sam as he pulled back.


End file.
